Irish Mist - Sean's Story (Mary O'Reilly Short Story) Terri Reid (best detective novels of all time .TXT) 📖

reptilian eyes met Sean’s, the look was cold and cruel and Sean knew this would be the death blow.  He braced himself, but didn’t close his eyes.  There was no way he was going to face death with his eyes closed.  He took a deep breath.

The glint of sun on metal blinded him for a moment and he panicked, not able to see the creature.  Finally, when he could see again, he realized the creature’s arm was still posed for the kill, but it wasn’t moving.  His gazed traveled up to its head, which seemed to be moving but not with the rest of the body.  The head began to topple forward and Sean realized it was no longer attached to the rest of the body.  He braced himself once more, this time for the weight of the head dropping on his stomach.  But as it fell, it turned to dust along with the rest of its body and dropped to the ground beside him.

“It doesn’t look like much once you’ve wacked its head off,” the girl said, wiping green ooze from the blade of her broadsword.

“What?” Sean murmured, finding it hard to comprehend that he was not going to die.

“Heldeofol,” she replied. “Nasty creature.  Poisonous. I’ve never seen anyone daft enough to take it on with just a stick.”

Even in his nearly unconscious state, Sean didn’t like her attitude. “Saved you,” he gasped.

“Oh, aye, you helped,” she replied casually. “But don’t be looking to get a medal for it. I’d have been out of the fix on my own in a moment or two.  You really had no reason to bother yourself.”

Sean glared at her.

“Well, no need to get nasty,” she said, kneeling down next to him.

She lifted his arm and tore his shirt away to expose his wounded arm. “Ah, he got you right good,” she whispered sympathetically. “It’s a scar you’ll wear for the rest of your days, if I’m not mistaking.”

The wound was red and puckered, and blood was oozing around the edges.  Small veins of black poison crisscrossed underneath Sean’s skin up his arm. The black was creeping slowly and was nearly to his shoulder. She ripped a piece of his shirt, formed a tourniquet and tied it high on his arm.

“We can’t have the poison get to your heart,” she explained. “Then you’d be a goner for sure.”

Pulling a few leaves from a nearby tree, she put them in her mouth and chewed on them a little before pulling them out and placing them on the wound.  Sean scrunched up his nose in disgust and she laughed. “Aye, I know, ‘tis disgusting, but it’s the only way to release the healing properties.”

She sat back on her heels and looked at him. “Your wound is deep and poison is traveling quickly. There is a way I can help you, but you must know, we will be bound because of it. Do you agree?”

Sean could barely hear her through the pain of his wounds and the lethargy caused by the poison.  He watched her mouth move and heard the words: help, bound and agree.

Nodding he took a deep shuddering breath and watched in detached interest as she withdrew a small silver knife from a sheath at her waist. She’s going to kill me, he thought. After all this, the girl is going to kill me.

She lifted his hand and drew her blade across the mound of flesh below his thumb and then repeated the same process on her own hand.  She placed the knife back in the sheath and placed their hands together, her hand on top so the blood flowed from her body into his.

Sean gasped at the burning sensation he felt at her touch. It was worse than the Mercurochrome his mother used for their scrapes and cuts. He wanted to pull his hand away, but he couldn’t get his arm to respond.

“If it makes you feel any better, I can feel the burn too,” she said, grimacing in pain. “Your blood is no treat to my system either.”

As she transferred her lifeblood into his system to kill the poison, she watched the blackened veins slowly fade and move back towards the initial wound. It was working.  The lad was going to live.  She breathed a soft sigh of relief.  She knew she’d lied.  If not for his interference, she would have died.  Her trainers had warned her to braid up her hair, but she’d been too stubborn to listen.  She owed him her life, a boon she’d never forget.

“Your name?” she asked.

“Sean,” he mumbled.

“Well then, Sean, you’re going to be fine,” she said. “And the remnants of the poison will turn this experience into naught but a bad dream.  Now all we have to do is get you up and to the edge of the woods where you’re people will be looking for you.”

She slipped her arm underneath Sean and sat him up.  He was still dazed, but he felt stronger.  He struggled to his feet and leaned against her.

“Can you walk?” she asked.

He nodded and stumbled forward.

Grabbing hold of him, she stopped his movement before he tripped himself. “Aye, you are the brave one, aren’t you?” she asked, a smile dancing across her lips. “Two sheets to the wind a moment ago and now you’re about running back home. Well, let’s take the slow route and let me help you just a wee bit.”

She guided him back through the forest, taking most of his weight on her.

He was still in a fog, but he understood he was going back…going home.  As he moved forward, he realized that he was dizzier than he thought because it seemed that the vegetation opened up to them as they passed, branches lifted and bushed bowed so they could walk through undisturbed.  “They’re getting out of our way…” he whispered.

“Aye, you’re half-daft,” she whispered, although he could hear the smile in her voice. “Trees and plants cannot move as we bid.”

In only a few minutes, they